


be rough with love

by wastrelwoods



Series: Meg Does Kinktober! [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Kinbaku, Kink Negotiation, Kinktober 2020, Other, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, bit of impact play. you know. for fun, debatably canon? to me. to ME, praise kink also happened, rope bunny juno, transmasc tops are so powerful and sexy i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastrelwoods/pseuds/wastrelwoods
Summary: “Juno,” Nureyev chides. “Darling. You trust me, don’t you? You know I’ll give you anything you ask for.” He slips off the bed and circles Juno, and his hand comes up to grasp at Juno’s jaw next, firmly this time, tilting his chin up and holding it still, so he couldn’t look away if he tried. “But you do have to ask, pet.”
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Series: Meg Does Kinktober! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947802
Comments: 24
Kudos: 153





	be rough with love

**Author's Note:**

> YES i mean to reference "if love be rough with you, be rough with love. prick love for pricking and you beat love down" bc you know who deserves to be given a shoutout in all your run-of-the-mill porn? mercutio. thats praxis
> 
> this got away from me but listen i love to see 1. juno having a healthy relationship with kink because he thinks its fun and enjoys it and that's fine 2. juno just getting absolutely RAILED

“Feeling quite cozy, love?” Nureyev asks, while his deft fingers work the last of the knots into place. 

Juno hums, and flexes his arms to feel the ropes pull across his shoulders. They hold strong and secure, shoulder to wrist, and if the complexity of the pattern is any indication the harness looks deceptively decorative for all that strength. It’s good work. Juno’s been tied up a lot more often for business than for pleasure in recent years, but he remembers what good ropework feels like. “It’s like riding a bike,” he says, confidently, and relaxes into the bindings.

“I suppose I hadn’t considered the two sets of skills to have much overlap, myself,” Nureyev muses with a grin in his voice. His hand settles at the nape of Juno’s neck, playing with the short-buzzed hair there. “Are you ready, then?” 

He was goddamn ready ten minutes ago, buzzing all over with Peter’s gentle, whispering touches on his bare skin, pressing soft kisses to his cheek as he twisted the silk ropes around each other. Nearly called the whole thing off to get those hands on him that much sooner, but he’s glad he waited. Some people call patience a virtue, or whatever. Plus, he feels good. Held and helpless in all the right ways.

He also feels like he might actually die if Peter makes him wait another minute. “So you _are_ gonna get around to fucking me sometime in the next year?” he says, petulantly. “Great, good to know.” 

“Juno,” Nureyev chides. “Darling. You trust me, don’t you? You know I’ll give you anything you ask for.” He slips off the bed and circles Juno, and his hand comes up to grasp at Juno’s jaw next, firmly this time, tilting his chin up and holding it still, so he couldn’t look away if he tried. “But you do have to ask, pet.” 

The impulse strikes him on a whim, and he forces himself to breathe in and out again at least once, give it a second’s thought before he voices it. “Slap my face.” 

He can see Nureyev mulling the idea over, a subtle flicker behind his bright eyes, but his face stays impassive and cool. After a moment’s deliberation, he offers a small nod. “Palm or backhand, dear?” 

Having the choice posed to him sends a wave of heat right through him, and he groans. “Palm,” he says, looking Nureyev square in the eye.

Nureyev purses his lips, nods again, and releases Juno’s chin from his grip. He pats at Juno’s cheek, once, fondly, and then slaps him hard enough to sting, sharp and sudden. “Good girl,” he says. “What else?” 

Juno’s face feels hot. He turns it into Nureyev’s open palm, and swallows. “Kiss me?”

He gives an answering chuckle, fond and warm. “Gladly,” Nureyev agrees, as he acquiesces. Soft lips, strong hands. Just an edge of sharp teeth. Juno leans forward so far he nearly unbalances himself, and only Nureyev’s hand on his shoulder spares him. “Easy now, love,” he murmurs. 

The slow and gentle is good, even sweeter in contrast with the prickling sting of his cheek, but Juno’s been itching for more since Nureyev first brought out the long length of rope. “Nureyev,” he interjects, between soft kisses. 

Nureyev smiles with his lips against Juno’s throat. “Something you want?” 

_"Nureyev"_ , he hisses, impatiently, but only gets another breath of a laugh, and nimble fingers dancing over the place where the rope rests against his collarbone. “Quit teasing.” 

“Am I?” He flicks at the harness, and then his fingers dance lower, skimming across Juno’s tits, just a whisper of a touch that sends a shiver down his spine. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me what I can do to make it up to you, hm?” 

“You can bend me over this fucking bed already,” Juno rasps. “And make me scream.” 

Nureyev grins, one thumb circling over Juno’s nipple. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says, and kisses him quickly on the mouth before standing, and pulling Juno to his unsteady feet with a tug on the crisscrossed ropes. Nureyev positions him with a few delicate touches and a few considerably less delicate touches to boot, gripping him by the back of the neck and shoving his face into the mattress, then tracing a finger along his spine, interrupted by every pass of the diamond-woven tie pinning his arms behind his back. “Comfortable?” 

“Fuck comfortable,” Juno clarifies, a little muffled. 

“Quite.” Nureyev’s hand goes to the crown of his head, grasping a handful of tight curls and pulling, roughly. “You’ll tell me if you need your arms free,” he says, less a question than an outright command. “Agreed?” 

Juno huffs, knowing from experience he won’t get a move on until he confirms it. “Fine.” 

“Good girl.” His nails scratch affectionately at Juno’s scalp. “Do you want me inside you?”

“God. Fuck.” Juno shifts back on the mattress, spreading his legs as much as he can in his immobilized position. “Yes.”

“Wonderful,” Nureyev hums, and grabs a handful of Juno’s ass to squeeze before walking leisurely around the bed, heels clicking all the way. If Juno cranes his neck, he can just manage to watch him slip into his harness, casually peruse his collection like he has all the time in the goddamn world to choose a strap, position it over his own cock, slick it with lube. He turns and looks back over his shoulder at Juno, and a wide, sharp grin spreads over his face. “Look at you, Juno,” he coos. “So eager for me.”

Juno wiggles his ass impatiently. “Going grey over here, Nureyev.”

“In due time, love,” he replies, but his heels click closer again, and he slips out of Juno’s already limited peripheral vision. Juno tracks him by sound until he feels Nureyev’s hands grip his hips, the slick silicone sliding teasingly against his ass. “Now, what was it you wanted again?” 

“Nur _eyev_ ,” Juno groans, with feeling. “Shut up and fuck me, you _bastard_.”

Nureyev’s fingers slip lower, tracing over his entrance, too slow and too gentle and too much to stand another damn second. Push inside two at once, opening him quick and rough, and then leave him empty again. “Oh, alright,” he says, with a nonchalant sigh. “Hard, was it?” 

Juno opens his mouth to curse him out and manages nothing more than a quick exhale before the tip of Nureyev’s cock presses inside of him, with a slow stretch he can feel in his jaw. “Fuck,” he murmurs, “Please--” 

“Shh,” Nureyev soothes, while he slides the strap in, by slow, inexorable inches. The hand still grasping at Juno’s side lifts his hips to tilt them back another degree, pulling out far enough to make him gasp and then fucking him deeper. 

Juno strains against the ropes binding him, suddenly desperate for something to grab onto as Nureyev thrusts into him with more sure, sharp strokes that rock him to his core. He traps a needy whine behind his teeth, and Nureyev’s free hand comes up to brace against the small of his back, pushing him harder into the bed. “Yeah,” Juno grunts, breathlessly. “Yeah, fuck, Nureyev, feels so good.” 

He snaps his hips hard, punching the rest of the air out of Juno’s chest with a ragged gasp, and leverages the hand on his waist to tug him back onto his cock. Helpless to go anywhere but where he leads, Juno goes slack, lets Nureyev’s hands push and pull him any way he wants. Nureyev makes a soft noise of appreciation, and grinds against Juno’s ass, already buried deep inside him. Juno feels an involuntary whine slip between his teeth, and then a hiccuping groan when Nureyev repeats the motion. 

“My good girl,” he hears, and, “You’re taking me so well, pet,” and “Juno, oh, you’re so lovely like this, let me hear you again.” Flowery praise soft in Juno’s ear, while Nureyev fucks him at a rough, bruising pace, gripping at his hip so hard he can feel the sharp indents of his nails biting into the skin there. 

Juno tries to let the mattress muffle his sounds as long as he can, gasping open-mouthed against the sheets, then gritting his teeth around the rasping moans Peter’s driving out of him with every thrust. Takes too much damn concentration, though, and he can’t keep it up forever, not when his body feels like a live wire, alight with indistinguishable sparks of pleasure and pain. 

“Can you take more, love?” Nureyev asks, his free hand brushing down Juno’s spine again, and Juno musters something like a nod. 

“Please,” he says, throaty and raw, “Please, please--”

Nureyev heaves him upright with a tug on the rope harness, wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes generously at his cock while he fucks him. Juno hears his moans rise in pitch and volume, and can’t see his way to doing a single goddamn thing about it, shifting his hips up into Nureyev’s touch and down into the relentless pace of his thrusts, impossibly deeper now with the change in angle. 

Peter’s smooth voice has turned thick with arousal, and his breath is hot and ragged on the nape of Juno’s neck as he lilts, “Good girl,” again, and, “Good, Juno, so easy for me, so beautiful--”

There’s a snap of his hips, a thumb pressing against the head of his cock, and the noise Juno lets out might really be a scream, harsh and keening. He chokes out a few short-lived efforts at Nureyev’s name, all the letters slurring together and tangling on themselves, and all that comes out is “ _Nnngh--_ ”

His legs shake and all but give out on him when he comes, then only Nureyev’s arms are holding him up, guiding him back down until he’s spread out over the mattress again. Nureyev follows him, staying close, staying deep, lips pressed to his shoulder, fucking him through and then past his orgasm, till Juno’s cries change from delirious shouts of pleasure to a soft, oversensitive whine. 

Nureyev slows, running a hand along his thigh. “Juno?” 

“Don’t have to stop,” he pants, when he has the breath. “Don’t want you to stop, Nureyev--” 

“Oh,” he says, hoarsely, and keeps fucking Juno, drawing out every soft little noise of pleasure-pain he can’t hold back, until his thrusts turn quick and shallow and he comes, too, buried deep in Juno, hands fisted in the sheets. “Juno, oh. _Fuck_.” 

Juno hums, floating too high to do any more than shift his hips back against Nureyev and sigh happily. “Mm. Stay here?” 

Nureyev presses a lazy kiss to the nape of his neck, and gives him what he asks for. Soft touches trail along his sides, then over his bound arms. The strap shifts inside him with tiny, teasing movements until the looming threat of stiffness and stickiness force him to retreat, leaving Juno empty and aching and still trembling faintly. 

Juno considers himself a worldly sort of lady, and he’s met a lot of professionals who really know their way around a length of rope. Actual riggers, usually, though some of the would-be kidnappers were pretty talented too. All of which is to say that nobody Juno’s ever met can undo a knot quite like Peter Nureyev. 

He slips Juno’s arms free so fast it almost doesn’t register, although it probably doesn’t hurt that he’s face-down on the mattress and so deep in subspace he wouldn’t notice if the bed turned into a spaceship and lifted off. Maybe his grasp on time is all fucked, but it _feels_ fast, the excruciating work of unwinding every loop and tie compressed into a painless moment. Somewhere in there he gets cleaned off a little, rolls over to rest his head in Peter’s lap instead. When he starts to come down, he can feel Nureyev massaging the feeling back into his fingers, pressing kisses to every one in turn, and the sensation brings an unconscious smile to his face. “Sap.” 

“Only for you, dear,” he reassures, and presses a kiss to the center of his palm, too. “You did so well for me, Juno, I’m very pleased with you.” 

Juno stretches like a plant growing toward the sun, and grins. “Not so bad yourself, N’reyev.”

**Author's Note:**

> PWEASE give comments they are my lifeblood thank you


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